The White Wedding
by StoryWriter107
Summary: [A/U, Young Ned and Catelyn] Their first meeting. Inspired by the lines in 'Rains of Castamere'… "Oh, Ned forbade it. He said it wouldn't be right if he broke a man's jaw on our wedding night." {*Catelyn/Ned*} ... Fluff and Conflict.


**THE WHITE WEDDING.**

**A/N:** A Ned and Catelyn fic, slightly _alternate universe, _mostly based off the show and research rather than the books. Inspired by the line in 'Rains of Castamere'… _"Oh, Ned forbade it. He said it wouldn't be right if he broke a man's jaw on our wedding night." _Let me know if you want a part 2! Hope you all enjoy!

"I would like to present my youngest daughter, Lysa. She might marry your Ned one day… or Jon Arryn. The man's looking for a new bride so I've heard." Hoster Tully smiled genuinely, his face mildly sweet before he continued speaking. "This is my Edmure. Strapping lad, isn't he? Brilliant bowman for a child of three. I'd let you wed him to your Lyanna, if she weren't so set on Robert or Rhaegar… whichever one she's actually marrying. You've not managed to get her back yet, have you, old man? Don't you worry. We'll find your girl and bring her home before the moons are round. Brandon looks like he's all ready for a war. You'll want Ned to stay in Winterfell. The rumors are getting very extravagant, my old friend, you might want to see to those and a-ha! Here she is… my Little Cat." Hoster announced proudly, meeting the eyes of his eldest child.

With delicate grace and poise, Catelyn Tully walked gently into the room. All eyes turned to look at the stunning face, so smooth and loving. The redness in her hair left envy in every woman nearby, the crystal blue of her eyes could melt any mans soul… including Eddard Stark's; a man who refused to be warmed by anything. The clans stood close together as the lady approached, taking her time as the blue dress was heavy to drag along the cobbled flooring. It had been designed especially for this day. The day she would meet her husband to be. Catelyn had heard the stories of the brave Brandon Stark, so handsome and true. Deep down, Cat just hoped for a kind husband, one who would listen to her and consider her his equal. Arrogant men never let their women speak and she was rather fond of being vocal. She wanted to be comforted, not pulled around like a trophy.

"Cat, this is Brandon, Rickard Stark's son. He is the handsome boy I've been telling you about. Your betrothed, my dear." Hoster smiled as much as his straight lips would allow. Cat approached the tall dark haired man, noticing his looks were in fact very pleasing. She did a small bend of the knee and allowed a welcoming grin to pass her mouth as she spoke. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I do hope that I'm nothing of a disappointment to you. My lateness is due to an incident which is better left undisguised." She nodded curtly. Only an hour before had Catelyn been chasing Petyr Baelish around a field. The handmaids had done everything they could to get her ready for the Stark's, in such a short amount of time. Brandon didn't care for her lateness, he was far too busy studying the beauty of her face.

"You are far from a disappointment, my lady. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful bride." Brandon charmed, in awe of the woman before him, wrapped tightly in the blue satin's. You could see her every curve through the dress. Comments about her 'birthing hips' always ran high when she wore clothing like this, and she was only of the age of ten and two. Her Septa had wanted to show her 'birthing hips' off to the Stark's today. _'You want them to know that you are fertile and womanly, my sweet'._ The older woman had said to the redhead that morning. Catelyn had only nodded and allowed her bodice to be tightened.

Interrupting her thoughts came a deep grumble of a cough. Eddard, the younger brother - still a year older than she - had cleared his throat trying to gain his brothers attention. He wanted to be introduced to his soon-to-be sister-by-law, but no-one was really paying him any attention. When Brandon finally came to his senses, he smirked. "Please, let me introduce you to my _baby_ brother. Eddard Stark. We call him Ned because he's a bit of a commoner." Brandon beamed smugly, as if he were rubbing the woman in Ned's face. "And we call you an arse, brother… But that's only because you're rarely around to hear it." Eddard mumbled, giving him an icy stare. Catelyn chuckled and tried to hide it rather poorly, until cold hands took a hold of her warm ones. Instantly, she felt the chill that emanated from his finger tips, then the cooling pressure of soft lips on her knuckles. Strangely, it soothed her nerves and for that moment, she couldn't breath.

"You have… very beautiful hair, lady Catelyn." Ned muttered under his breath, lifting his dark eyes up to meet her own with pure honesty. Her unruly hair had been the first thing Eddard had noticed. It was long and wild, wavy and messy, like she'd been out swimming or fighting in the fields. Ned had always liked wild independent women. They were more interesting and had a passionate spark to their nature. "You must excuse it, my lord. I didn't have much of a chance to brush it properly." Catelyn apologized, pulling the red strands over her shoulders in a slight attempt to neaten it. The waves tumbled over her breasts, down the curves of her womanly shape and rested beside her belly button. "Even so. I admire it." He nodded politely, before reaching up to pull a small strand of straw from her red mane.

Brandon rolled his eyes at the pair: Ned's shy glances and Catelyn's sweet blushing cheeks. "Father, I'd like it immensely if I would take the Lady Catelyn on a stroll around the courtyard. Ned and Lysa may come too, best they get to know each other now rather than later." Brandon smirked, offering his arm to Cat, which she really had no choice but to accept. Lysa did the same with Ned, offering her arm in a mocking manner. It was obvious that Lysa didn't like Brandon. With a silent chuckle, he took the woman's arm and followed the red-headed beauty out of the castle, walking behind his brother as they strolled around the courtyard like lost puppies seeking attention.

Eventually, they stopped at the Godswood. The ladies didn't worship these gods, but the Tully's were very good friends to many families in the North, which was why they had this place-of-worship built many years ago. Catelyn never liked the white faced Weirwood heart tree. The face was creepy to look at, especially during the night. "Lysa and I will leave you lords to pray, if you wish?" Cat asked Brandon, who shook his head. "You are soon to be the Lady of Winterfell. You must learn to love and pray to our gods now." Brandon said harshly, looking at the girl expectantly, like he wanted her to pray to their Gods immediately.

"Come on, Brandon. Let the ladies worship who they will. You can't expect them to just give up on their faiths." Ned interrupted in an unbelievable tone. His brother glared at him, a face as harsh as a thousand suns. "Lady Catelyn, Lady Lysa… I'd like it if you would show me the stables Lord Edmure has been raving about. My brother can manage his prayers on his own." Eddard demanded, leaving with the women before Brandon could protest.

"Do not worry, my lady. I will build you a Sept in Winterfell so you may keep the Faith of the Seven, even if my brother threatens to kill me. It was wrong of him to assume that you'll swap to our faiths so quickly, if at all. He's never really been a level headed man, has our Brandon, but I would not speak ill of him. He is a brave and loyal man. I assure you that you will be most happy together." Ned nodded, following the women to the stables. Cat smiled, beside herself with happiness. She felt an unnameable joy to be around someone as gentle as Ned. Lysa would be very lucky to get to marry such a loving man. "You are most kind, my lord." She beamed, her shoes crunching on the leaves beneath her feet.

They eventually reached the stables, where Petyr Baelish sat guarding the door. He was covered from head to toe in mud - after Catelyn had pushed him in the lake earlier. "Oh, Petyr! What has she done to you?!" Lysa exclaimed, rushing to the young boys side. Petyr shrugged and gave Cat a knowing smirk, which she chose to ignore. "This way, my lord." The beauty nodded, pushing the doors aside to allow the man to see the selection of horses. The pair saddled up and rode off into the woods, before anyone could stop them.

"How old are you, my lady?" Ned asked, completely hypnotized by the delighted look on Catelyn's face. It was like she'd never been asked a question before. "Ten and two, my lord Stark." She replied giddily, riding up to a small quarry, which was brimming with fresh water. Riverrun must be boiling hot to a Stark, Cat imagined. He'd probably appreciate being somewhere cooler. This was where the Tully's all came on a day like today, when the sun was high and the air humid. Since the Stark's arrived, however, the Tully's felt more need to be indoors than out.

After they finally settled the horses, Ned disembarked and tied the reins to a nearby tree, not too tightly, Catelyn noticed. Most men feared that their horses would ride off, so tied them firmly. Ned was giving his horse a choice. It was granted more freedom to move around with the way Ned had tied it. "I am ten and three." He nodded gently in reply to his own question. Breaking her thoughts, he helped her down from her horse. "You should be ten and six when you marry Brandon. I suspect this war will go on for a few more years yet." Ned added, before taking a seat on a rock near the stream. "My lady?" He looked up, suddenly noticing her discomfort. After a few moments, she sat and looked over the northerners face.

"Is he loving, my lord? … Brandon?" She queried aloud. "I was just wondering, is he a caring sort of man or one to appreciate a showman's wife. I'd prefer to know now rather than later so I may prepare myself." She muttered meekly, looking down at the creases in her fingers. "Brandon's always been one for showing off, my lady." Ned said in an apologetic manner. Catelyn had guessed as much. She gathered her skirts together and sat up straight, her eyes drifted over the waters, remembering the currency of which it flowed.

She sat in silence for a while. Ned didn't seem to mind. "I always dreamed of a quiet marriage." She confessed, looking at the man beside her with adoration in her bright blue eyes. "I want many children, my lord - Five or six. I want them to be cuddling each other in front of a warm fire in the North while their parents sit beside them, enjoying wine and each others company. I'm not all too hard to please." Catelyn nodded, not sure as to why she was telling the brother of her betrothed all these things. "I know that love is complex and I believe that it is built, not sudden and spontaneous. Lust is what Brandon feels for me, I see it in his eyes and I fear, my lord… that it will burn out quickly. I never want to resent my husband." She whispered the last part. "I just want to be content. Contentment will make me a very happy woman." Catelyn nodded, looking down at the fingers on her lap once more.

"Women like you always find a way to be happy. You're marrying someone you don't even know and you're only ten and two. You have to move to a freezing cold climate over your humid one, leaving behind family and friends… yet you still smile brighter than I'd have suspected, my lady." Ned looked over the pretty hint of joy in her eyes. She was so young and innocent, so full of life. He never wanted that to change, but knew that Brandon would break her and cause that delighted glisten in her orbs to disappear. Ned wanted to keep her safe, put her in a little bubble and mark her as 'fragile'. Not for the first time today had he cursed himself for not being the older brother. Brandon always got the nice things. He was the eldest, so he naturally got first choice of bride. Brandon was trained to lead, he was trained to follow.

Catelyn gave Ned the smile he truly wanted and lifted the bottom of her skirts to allow her shoes to slip from her feet. She proceeded then, to dip her toes in the glittering waters from the small fountain and lake. "How would you treat your lady wife, Ned?" She asked, completely curious. Conversation felt so easy with this man. It was as if she'd known him her whole life, when in reality they'd only met that morning. His answer was one that had her mesmerized. Every word was chosen purposely and carefully.

"I would treat my lady wife as if she were a queen. She would never want for a thing. I'd allow her to believe what she wishes, to dream as she chooses and to rule at my side as my equal. I'd want her to stand up for herself. To never let anyone tell her what to do if she believed against it… I'd treat her with respect and the same gentility she would show me for the kindness I have granted her. I would give her everything she has given me and more. My lady wife… would be MY lady and no-one else's." He grinned foolishly, his hands clasped together, resting on his knees. Catelyn repeated each line in her head a thousand times, thinking over every word so she wouldn't forget. Why could she not be the younger sister? If Lysa did marry Ned, Cat would be grievous. She wanted love, respect and honor, but most of all… she wanted a home. She wanted Ned.

With a soft sigh, she looked down at her feet, gazing at the way the waters lapped between her toes. "We best be making our way home, my Lord. Your father will most likely be missing you greatly and Brandon has yet to tell me about every woman he's had and every man he's slain." She said in a sarcastic tone. Deep down, Catelyn didn't want to go back to the castle, but it was for the best. She knew that if she stayed out any longer in the sun with Ned, that she'd never want to return. The statement from earlier still had her heart in a frenzy. "You're going to make a woman very happy one day, Ned. I just hope that she's the woman you want her to be." The redhead nodded gracefully, as she stood and mounted her horse for the second time that day.

"I'm sure that she will be everything I wish for and more." He grinned shyly, meeting her gaze as he too mounted his horse; who was calm as anything, loosely tied to the tree. With a slight whip of the reins they were off, rushing back to the house of Tully. Supper was almost ready and families were greeting together to wish luck upon the newly betrothed couple. As always Brandon showed off. Many men from around Riverrun had turned up to view the festivities. They were shocked at the brazen attitude of the Stark boy, compared to his brother, who seemed more like a man in the simplest ways. Ned kept his head clear all evening, while Brandon drank and slurred over his bride to be. Cat didn't take much notice. She chatted with her sister Lysa in a language that nobody but them could understand. That night, they continued to drink, dance and laugh before retiring to bed with full stomachs.

Catelyn would sleep with words of love and equality ringing in her mind, and Ned would dream of Cat's beautiful red hair. In the morning, they were to part and never see each other again, not for the longest time. "I will be seeing you soon, my lady Catelyn." He nodded courteously. Ned was never one to show much emotion. The few smiles he'd given her the other day were rare to the friendly eye. "It would be my pleasure to host another event if you were to ever return to our company, my lord. I understand how busy you may be in the future." She nodded, picking up on the mutual understanding. They both knew that they would never be together. Holding on to the idea was stupid to say the least. Cat knew better than anybody that sometimes you didn't get to choose. She would trade anyone's life for Ned's hand rather than Brandon's… but it had been decided and the duty of her families honor was a strong one. If the gods were good, they would grant her wish and send home a strong Ned Stark.

Ned had gone back to Winterfell, along with his banner-men, father and brother. Every morning, noon and night, the red headed girl prayed for Ned's safety. War was a dangerous business that she didn't want anyone involved in. "Bring him home to me safely, let them not bring him harm or pain… and if they do so treat him ill, allow me to tend to his wounds and treat him as my equal." She would whisper in the dead of night when nobody could hear her pleas. Praying was the only thing she could think to do, but not once did a word leave her lips about her betrothed: Brandon. This only occurred to Cat a few months later when a letter arrived from the battlefield.


End file.
